


Long enough

by dancergrl1



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Panic Attacks, like a little bit, really that's it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 18:51:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14267373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancergrl1/pseuds/dancergrl1
Summary: Prompt: “Hey, hey, calm down. They can’t hurt you anymore.”“H-how long have you been standing there?” - “Long enough.”





	Long enough

**Author's Note:**

> Cross posted on fanfiction.net, thought i'd put it up here.

It hits like a train, smashing the air out of my lungs, the power out of my legs, and ignites my fight or flight response. I stand up, force out an “Excuse me”, and try to walk normally out of the room. I find a small space, they help, and I think it’s a closet as I close the door behind me, then lock it. 

At some point later, I come back to myself. I’m not sure how long i’ve been in this closet, surrounded by toilet paper and paper towels. I stand up, take a deep breath, and run a hand down my face. I look down, checking the state of my shirt. Considering i wear activewear most days, despite whatever may be on the agenda, it didn't suffer much from this latest episode. I peek out the window in the door, and look around. The hallway looks clear, even though I have no clue where I am. That usually happens when I run blindly away from situations. I can’t ever predict where I’ll end up. A thought niggles at the back of my mind about fixing that. I gather up my courage, and prepare myself for the questions from Amelia, from Al, from Oscar. THey’d all been in that room when I ran. They’d all be expecting answers. I hit my knees again, and somewhere something tells me I didn’t lock the door this time. Suddenly, there’s a new voice that’s not telling me everything’s going to go wrong that my dream is going to be over before it starts. It’s saying something I haven’t heard before when this happens. 

“Hey, hey, calm down. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

The voice keeps saying to calm down, and I try. I really try. It starts to count, and it registers, from one or two times that someone else has had the presence of mind to try it too, that my breathing should match the numbers. It becomes automatic, in for three, out for three. I keep going that way, and the body next to me slowly starts to rise and back away, eventually occupying a space close enough I can see it, but not close enough to make it out yet. 

After a few minutes, I look up. Of course, it’s Lawson.

“H-how long have you been standing there?” I stutter out, not sure how i feel about the development of him knowing about these episodes

“Long enough.” He replies. “It’s more common than you think, you know, anxiety in the Major League.”

Is he trying to tell me...that this is OK? I’ve hidden it for so long out of shame, been able to keep a lid on it since I got here. Not even Amelia knew about these episodes. 

“Go on, run, tell Al and Oscar.” I spit at him. It’s what everyone else has done in my experience. As soon as they catch the episode happening, they run and tell someone that the girl can’t handle it, that I shouldn’t be here. 

“Why would I do that?”

“It’s what everyone does.”

“I’m not everyone.”

“You really want someone who loses track of time when this happens to be on the mound?”

“I figure we can figure it out, work together, a signal for when you’re getting overwhelmed, need a break. We’ve got signals for everything else.”

He makes a point, a good one. And he’s making it slow enough for me to make sense of it. I wonder, briefly, if he experiences it too. The crushing, overwhelming anxiety and urge to run, and the overwhelming feeling of panic from the smallest things. I let the thought pass, in the interest of not having a third episode today. I nod weakly. He sees I’m starting to get my executive functions back, and strikes up a conversation. 

“Where were you before this?”

“Meeting. Al, Amelia, Oscar.” I force out. I’m feeling it again, that train coming towards me. 

“Hey, hey, calm down. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

I focus. Breathe out. Breathe in, and catch a whiff of his cologne. Not Axe. A good sign. Some guys use it like a shower. In, out, in out. 

“How do you...know how to handle this?”

“You think it’s my first rodeo? Eventually the pressure stops, the contract is sealed, and it’s just playing ball, and practice, and press conferences. It’s a lot to take in at first. And a lot of pressure. But in time, you get used to it. You get better at managing it. And sometimes, you get help.”

I look at him, dumbfounded. “You?”

He nods, shrugs, holds out his hand. I take it, and we pull each other up from the ground. “You need to get back to that meeting?”

I breathe, consider it with my rational mind, and shake my head. 

“Good. Let’s get out of here.”

 

We walk out the door, and of course he’s picked the one that can be seen from the executive suites. I feel the stares from the office as i walk next to Mike. I’ll probably hear about it tonight, but for now, I’m ok. And I feel with mike by my side, I’ll keep going up.

**Author's Note:**

> review?


End file.
